I nearly took off Huck’s head when he hugged my girl, but he was a fast motherfucker and gone before I blinked.
Raiden and Marissa were the last to leave, having stayed to help us clean up.
Then we were alone. Rylin looked up at me, overwhelmed but glowing.
As much as I wanted her in my bed, I also craved her smiles, the way she lit up from the inside when she was happy, and the incredible sound of her laughter. Looking at her at that moment, my thoughts were about the life she deserved—and how I’d do whatever it took to make sure she got it.
8
RYLIN
Micah’s confidence in my recipes was stunning. No one had ever believed in me like that before. It both terrified and thrilled me.
“They loved everything I made,” I breathed.
He took a few steps closer, and suddenly there wasn’t nearly enough air in the room. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll accept their compliments at face value because they have no ulterior motives.”
It was impossible to ignore how his friends had devoured all the treats he’d put out for the tasting. “I still don’t understand why you’d go to all this trouble.”
“You’re overestimating how much effort it took.” He shook his head. “And you’re good at this, Rylin. Better than good.”
I blinked hard again, determined not to cry in front of him. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”
He stepped close enough that the heat from his body brushed my front. “But it’s so damn true, baby.”
I finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were focused entirely on me. There was no pity there, just a quiet kind of pride that made my chest ache. “Thank you.”
It felt inadequate, but that was all I could manage at the moment.
His gaze dipped to my mouth, lingering there for a heartbeat. “I don’t want your gratitude.”
My breath caught, and awareness spread through my body in a slow burn. “Micah.”
He lifted his hand, giving me plenty of time to step back, and brushed his knuckles lightly along my cheek. The tenderness in that touch unraveled something deep inside me.
“If you want me to back off, just say the word.”
I should’ve remembered my rules, but with his palm warm against my skin and his blue gaze focused on me, I couldn’t force myself to push him away. Not even verbally.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt before my brain caught up. His breath hitched, and his chest expanded beneath my hand.
Something raw and hungry flashed across his face. He dipped his head slowly, giving me one last chance to pull away. But I didn’t.
Our lips met in a kiss that deepened when I sighed against his mouth. His other hand slid to my hip, tugging me closer until my body was flush against his.
This was nothing like that fleeting kiss on the platform, or even the one he’d given me just a little while ago. This was all heat and want and need. Everything I’d been trying to pretend I didn’t feel.
I fisted his shirt tighter, clinging to him when my knees threatened to give out. He angled his head, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, thorough stroke that lit me up from the inside out.
A small sound tore from my throat. He swallowed it with another kiss, deeper this time.
He turned us gently, backing me toward the nearest table until the edge pressed against the backs of my thighs. His hand skimmed from my hip to the small of my back, anchoring me. Then his forehead dropped to mine. We both stood there for a second, breathing each other in.
His thumb traced the corner of my mouth, his touch achingly gentle for a man who made his living tackling other guys. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”
“You’re very bad for my self-control,” I whispered, earning myself a rough chuckle.
“I’ve been hanging on to mine by a thread since the first time you smiled at me.” His eyes darkened. “You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”
